Chương 3
The name meant nothing to Claire.
Victoria’s face said otherwise.
The train doors closed.
Nobody boarded.
The restored Pullman pulled away six minutes later carrying three railway employees, a bartender, several untouched bottles of champagne, and none of the Morgan wedding party.
By then Claire had Lily wrapped in two station blankets in the private waiting room, drinking hot chocolate that was much too hot.
Lily blew across the cup solemnly.
Claire sat beside her.
Her hands would not stop trembling.
She hid them between her knees.
Edward stood at the window with his back to them. Victoria had disappeared into the adjacent room with the wedding coordinator and Claire’s new sister-in-law, Rebecca, whose marriage to Claire’s cousin Nathan had technically lasted forty-seven minutes before the reception collapsed into something nobody had planned.
Nobody knew whether to leave.
That, Claire discovered, was one of the strangest things about family disasters. People became concerned about logistics.
Who had the cars?
Had the hotel been told?
What about the luggage already loaded onto the train?
Would there still be dinner?
An elderly cousin asked the coordinator whether the petit fours could be boxed.
Claire found herself staring at him.
Then she started laughing.
She covered her mouth.
Edward turned.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
She laughed harder.
It was inappropriate and almost painful.
Lily looked at her, then began giggling too.
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
That made Lily laugh harder.
For ten seconds they sat together laughing in a room full of people who had absolutely no idea what to do with them.
Then Lily spilled hot chocolate on the station blanket.
The moment ended.
Claire found napkins.
Normal life, apparently, had terrible timing.
Her phone vibrated.
Her husband, Michael.
WHERE ARE YOU TWO? I’M TEN MINUTES AWAY.
Claire stared at the message.
Michael had skipped the wedding because he had been called into the hospital. He was an anesthesiologist, and one of his colleagues had gotten sick halfway through a complicated case. Claire had been irritated with him.
Now she wanted him so badly it embarrassed her.
She typed:
PRIVATE PLATFORM. LILY’S OK. MY MOTHER LOCKED HER OUTSIDE. COME NOW.
Three dots appeared immediately.
Then:
WHAT?
Claire put the phone away.
She was too tired to explain insanity by text.
Lily leaned against her.
“Mom?”
“Yeah?”
“Is Grandma mad because of Uncle Daniel?”
Claire looked at the child.
“What makes you ask that?”
“She said his name.”
“When?”
“When she found me with the computer.”
“What exactly happened?”
Lily stared into her hot chocolate.
Claire waited.
She had learned, after seven years of motherhood, that questions could become walls if you stacked them too quickly.
Lily picked at the paper seam on the cup.
“I wanted to look at the picture.”
“Okay.”
“It was making a noise.”
“The frame?”
She nodded.
“So I opened the back because I thought something broke.”
“And you found the drive.”
“I thought it had pictures.”
“That makes sense.”
“I put it in the computer.”
“What came up?”
“A bunch of little boxes.”
“Folders?”
“Maybe.”
“Did you open one?”
“One said Lily.”
Claire’s breathing stopped.
“Your name?”
“Yes.”
“What was inside?”
Lily looked toward the door Victoria had gone through.
“A video.”
Claire moved closer.
“Did you watch it?”
“A little.”
“What was on it?”
“Uncle Daniel.”
Edward turned from the window.
Claire raised one hand without looking at him.
Not yet.
“What did Daniel say?”
“He said hello.”
“To you?”
Lily nodded.
“And then Grandma came in.”
“Did she see the video?”
“Yes.”
“What did she do?”
“She shut the computer.”
Lily’s eyes filled again.
“She asked where I got it. I told her. She took me outside because she said we had to talk. Then she said I ruined everything.”
Claire felt something in herself settle.
Rage was easier when it was hot.
This was not hot anymore.
“What did you ruin?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Grandma tell you?”
“She said Uncle Daniel was sick and he made up stories.”
Edward swore softly.
Claire looked at him.
“You knew?”
“No.”
“But he called you.”
“Yes.”
“And you never told me.”
Edward looked down.
“I thought he was drunk.”
Daniel had been sober for four years when he died.
Claire stood.
Edward’s face changed.
“I know.”
“You thought he was drunk.”
“I hadn’t spoken to him in months.”
“That makes it better?”
“No.”
“Did you tell Victoria he called?”
Edward did not answer quickly enough.
Claire nodded.
“Of course you did.”
“I asked her about Harrow Street.”
“And?”
“She told me Daniel had been having problems again.”
“What problems?”
“She implied he was using.”
Claire looked toward the closed door.
“Was he?”
“I don’t know.”
“I do.”
Edward said nothing.
“He called me every Sunday,” Claire said. “Sometimes Saturday if he had a date Sunday and wanted to pretend he had a social life. He went to meetings twice a week. He had a sponsor. He was working. He was paying off his credit cards. He was irritatingly proud of his air fryer.”
Edward looked ashamed.
Claire did not let him escape into it.
“He was sober.”
“I believe you.”
“You didn’t believe him.”
“No.”
The door opened.
Victoria stepped out.
She had removed her gloves.
Claire had rarely seen her mother without either gloves or rings at formal events. Tonight she wore neither.
Her hands looked older than the rest of her.
“Claire,” she said, “we need to speak privately.”
“No more private conversations.”
“This concerns Daniel.”
“Then Lily stays.”
Victoria looked at the child.
“No.”
Claire stared at her.
“You don’t get to decide where my daughter goes anymore.”
“Some things should not be discussed in front of a seven-year-old.”
“That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said tonight.”
Victoria’s shoulders relaxed slightly.
Claire continued.
“So you can wait.”
Michael arrived twelve minutes later still wearing navy hospital scrubs beneath his raincoat.
He crossed the waiting room without greeting anyone.
Lily ran to him.
May you like
He lifted her off the floor.
Claire watched his face as Lily whispered into his neck.
